What it is: The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry is a story of a boy who travels from his own planet around the world, seeing all the wonderful and terrible things that exist and comparing what it means to be a child vs. an adult. It’s half magical realism, half universal truths. What I liked…
Everyone’s got a watchful eye on something different.
Here’s the thing about starting new projects: it’s never a good time. There are always things that are pressing, other priorities that need to be accomplished. We already occupy 24 hours a day doing whatever it is we choose to do. When we start new things, we don’t add hours to the day. We just have…
A few weeks ago, colleges across the United States exploded with discussions about race on campus. Major movements at Mizzou and Yale made the headlines of all the major news outlets, but journalists didn’t fail to mention similar protests at Claremont McKenna, Southern Methodist, Colgate, Bowdoin, and my own Ithaca College. It’s a little strange to read…
The only way to get rid of all those awful, hateful things you say to yourself is to solidify them into lozenges, place them on your tongue, and let them dissolve. Form your I’m not good enoughs into a blue raspberry drop, your I can’t do its into a cherry drop, and your I don’t…
When I mess up, and lord knows I mess up, all I want to do is unzip my skin. My mistake envelops me, creating a membrane of someone else–someone who isn’t a good friend, someone who hurts others. When I mess up, I confront my mistakes. I lay myself out, raw, unzipped, uncovered, unprotected. I just…
He’ll come with a bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates. I know he will. They say life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re going to get. But I know what you’re going to get. You’ll get a box filled with little white chocolate lies, with hurt that oozes…
The first house she bought was forest green and the size of her thumbnail. She could trade it in with three others for a bright red hotel that would guarantee her victory. The second house she bought was a bit bigger and pentagonal. She placed the tiny doll family inside, encouraging her daughter to speak,…
Turkey. Mashed potatoes. Stuffing. Uncle Bob’s clam dip. Green beans. Rolls. Grammy’s sweet potatoes. Salad. Pumpkin cheesecake. Uncle Bill’s blackberry, pumpkin, and apple pies. Friends. Family. Gratitude. Laughter. Rinse. Repeat. Originally posted as Happy Thanksgiving! on November 27, 2014. Welcome to Microvember, my take on NaBloPoMo. Each day this month I’ll be posting microfiction, short vignettes, or poetry,…
When I wake up in the morning, I make my covers into a cave. If I can’t see the world, it doesn’t exist, right? I can handle blue jersey sheets surrounding and suffocating me, but I’m not sure I can handle the real-life things that do the same. I’ve discovered that seven minutes is the…
Victim to Charm 